


A Million Fish In The Sea

by CipherCifear



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mermaid, M/M, Minor Violence, brief mention of tom, drowing mention, somone loses an eye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:38:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CipherCifear/pseuds/CipherCifear
Summary: Paul is stuck in a boring fishing town till one day the dread pirate king Red Leader, renders it to ash. From there he becomes one of the crew, one of the most loyal in fact, earning the title quarter master.The one day a boarding goes wrong and Paul is lost at sea, unable to swim. He thinks that this is how he dies.Instead he is saved by a rather handsome man... or perhaps man-fish would be a the better word.Paul isn't sure what to call him.------A one shot Paultryck, mermaid AU.





	A Million Fish In The Sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izaya's_ass](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Izaya%27s_ass).



> This work is a gift to the winner of my design contest for the story: "Ready For A Revolution?".  
> They requested Paultryck mermaid AU.  
> I hope you like this one shot.  
> It came out longer then I thought. I dunno why I keep insisting on everything having background and depth... It makes my life so much harder.  
> Anyways, Izaya's_ass's, I hope you like your fanfic!

     Paul sat on the edge of the dock, watching the sunset and the colors clash against the water's surface. He took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing smoke rings as way to alleviate the boredom. Daremy was a rather boring fishing town, stuck out on a coast side so remote no one bothered to visit anymore. It didn’t matter that the waters were clean and sparkled all day, nor did matter that the fish were fresh and delicious, or the weather always bright and sunny. No one came because it was too far out. So the town faded into obscurity, people being born in the town and dying in the town. There was no reason to leave after all-- they had everything they wanted right here. Paul found it all tedious and dull. Who wanted to stay in one place their whole life? Dullards.

One last suck of sweet tobacco and the cigarette was tossed into the water, floating back towards the beach. Paul stood up, wincing as the light reflecting off the water's surface got in his eyes. He flinched, blinded by the brightness for but a moment. He blinked. In the distance there was a ship, shadowed out by the setting sun. Paul rubbed his eyes, unsure if what he saw was real. No ships that big came to Darmey. There wasn’t even a big enough port to house a ship that big.

But there it was. Slowly sailing closer and closer by the minute. Paul watched with awe, wondering who in their right mind would want to dock here. Then he saw the flag. Jet black with the red symbol cursive on it, burning bright in the darkening sky. He turned to flee, running back towards the town. From behind him there was the sound of dull popping, and above him something large flew by. He ducked and covered his head as cannon balls flew over, shattering buildings and streets, rubble flying everywhere. There was no safe place to run to, not when the cannons were being fired at random. A house nearby him was struck, a large chunk of wood slashing him across the face. Paul grabbed his injury, turning tail and running back to the sea. ‘They wouldn’t fire at the beach,’ he reasoned. ‘There were no targets of worth on it.’ His right eye burned, it hurt to open. So he kept it shut tight, blood running down his hand. The bleeding wouldn’t stop.

Paul hid under the dock, all the way in the back where the shadows lay to smother him up and keep him safe. There he covered his mouth, not daring to make a sound. Above the cannon balls roared.

He stayed hidden till the boats came to shore, pirates jumping out of the wooden barges and running towards the village. None of them spared the underside of the dock a second glance. Paul watched them, listened as he heard the sounds of screams above him. Gun fire. Crying. Oddly, Paul couldn’t bring himself to care. No, all he could think about was that this was probably the most interesting thing to happen to Darmey in a hundred years. He laughed.

 

* * *

 

    He was caught not even two days later, when hunger drove him to seek food and the injury on his face screamed for aid. Paul was dragged to the former mayor's house, unshocked that the building remained untouched. It had been built on the very edge of town, on a large hill overlooking all of Darmey. Now it was home to the infamous pirate king, Red Leader. Paul wondered what he would look like. He wondered if he would be killed. He hadn’t seen many survivors from the attack; just a few women and children. He tried not to think about why they were kept.

 

Thrown down, Paul screamed when his injured side smashed into the floor, head ringing with agony. He hoped they would kill him. If only to make his hunger and pain go away.

Grabbed roughly by his hair, Paul was forced to look up and meet the bright silver eye(s) of a man who could almost be his age. Perhaps younger. It was hard to tell. Half of the man's face was covered in burns and scarring, eye covered by a dark black patch. The unburnt part was young, cocky and soft. Paul might have guessed him to be about five or so years younger them him. There was a symbol on his eyepatch, the one the pirate ship's flag had flown and suddenly Paul knew who this man was.

 

Red Leader smiled down at him, inspecting his prisoner like one would a prized calf. He tutted at the injury, digging his thumb into the damaged eye. Paul screamed and tried to shove the pirate king away, shocked when he was unable to. The bastard just laughed, telling him it had been dead anyways. That he was just helping him to remove the rotting tissue. And there before everyone, he tore it out, laughing at Paul’s screams.

* * *

    Three weeks later he was on the ship and a cabin boy. Paul had thought he would be killed. He had thrown spite and venom back at the man for ‘helping’ him, calling him every name in the book. Red Leader had just laughed and taken it in stride, patting his head like one would a dumb animal. ‘I like you, so fiesty. I think I am going to keep this one.’ had been his exact words.

 

Paul tried not to fidget with the bandages that wrapped around his face. They itched something awful, but the ship’s doctor had told him that was a good sign; that is injury was healing and NOT to touch it. So he didn’t. Instead, he watched the waves dance back and forth in the moon's light, unsure what he was doing on the ship.

The first week he had learned not to fight back. His back was covered in bright red scars, still healing from Red Leader’s punishments. The second week he had learned how to help cook, clean, and do odd chores about the ship. The third week he learned no one but the captain was allowed to harm him. He had watched in mute horror as the drunk asshole who had punched him in the face, be keelhauled until Red Leader allowed him to drown.

 

It would soon be approaching four weeks. Paul wondered what he would learn then.

* * *

 

Red Leader-- now allowed to be known to him as Tord-- was a hard friend to have. His interests were odd: He tended to enjoy very violent things, and would only take so much back talk before lashing out. Paul had learned to how walk the line with his captain. Sometimes he thought back to his village, but not often.

Becoming a pirate was enjoyable now that he was at the top. He saw the world, things he never would have seen in that small shanty town. If you asked him now, Paul would say he was glad that Tord had attacked his village-- that being left to grow old and die there would be worse than losing one eye and a few scars. Paul was a different man now.

 

* * *

 

The attack on the cargo ship had not gone as planned.

Paul had led the boarding party, laughing with delight as he men shot down the guards of the ship, taking the top decks with ease. He shot down officers that stood in his way, determined to find the captain of the ship and bring him before Red Leader.

They had a history, this captain and Tord. Tord didn’t talk about it often, but from what Paul guessed, the scars his leader bore were because of this man.

Paul kicked in the door the captain's quarters, expecting to find his target there. Instead he found barrels gunpowder. He fled back up to the deck, screaming at his men to get off the ship. Confused but loyal, they obeyed, turning tail and fleeing back to the safety of the Red Army. Paul yelled at them to get the ship away, that he would try to put distance between the two vessels. He could hear Tord’s furious cries, demanding that he get back to the ship at once. Paul ignored the orders, taking the helm. He would put as much distance as he could between the two ships before whoever left alive on board set the powder ablaze.

 

The ships were barely hundred knots apart when hull was set ablaze.

 

Paul was flung from the helm, crashing into cold water. His body froze up, unsure what to do. He had never been taught how to swim. Thrashing his arms and legs, Paul tried to swim to the surface, unable to dodge the large pieces wreckage that came his way. Pinned under, unable to swim free, Paul sank into the depths of the ocean.

This is how I die, he thought, vision blurring as water began to fill his lungs. He saw a dolphin swim by, or perhaps it was a shark. He couldn’t really tell at this point. Whatever it was, it grew closer and Paul just closed his eyes. Death would come soon enough…

 

* * *

 

    Paul’s eyes flew open, the light blinding him. That didn’t matter, what mattered was the rush of water in his lungs coming back up. He turned on his side, coughing and wrenching up the salty sea water. It burned his throat. Breathing air hurt. Paul took deep wheezing breaths, his body shaking from the shock.

Why wasn’t he dead?

He sat up and looked around. If this was hell, hell sure looked a lot like a beach. Paul scooped up some sand, letting the warmth run through his fingers and spill back onto the yellow grain he sat upon. It felt real. He stood, legs weak and unsteady. He collapsed, groaning. Everything was sore.

 

“Are… Are you alright?” Paul stirred at the voice. He didn’t recognize it. “I thought humans were supposed to be able to stand upright?”

 

When he looked up again, Paul wanted to scream in surprise. His throat wouldn’t let him. Before him, half beached on the sand, was the most attractive man he had ever laid eyes upon. Chocolate brown hair that winged in front of his face, cascading down his back. Deep warm brown eyes that glistened in the light. The only thing that offset the beauty were the glaring bright orange scales around his midsection, slowly running down into a hue of yellows, pinks, and even deeper oranges that made up one large tail.

Paul wondered if drowning had messed up his mind. He rubbed his eye and opened it. No there still was a handsomely beautiful man with a large fish tail sitting before him. Paul reckoned the tail was as long as he was. The unknown entity scooted closer and Paul scooted backwards. The man frowned, hurt by his action.

 

“I was only checking to see if your humans fins worked properly. I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

 

Paul opened his mouth then closed it. He wasn’t sure what to say. Thank you for saving me? What are you? Do you mean legs? Where am I? He had a lot of questions and wasn’t sure to ask first. Then he remembered why he was here in the first place. The explosion! Had the ship made it away safely? Was Tord alright?!

 

“The ship-”

 

“It went up in flames. It was rather pretty to watch.” The handsome man seemed to smile at the memory.

 

“No the other one. The one bearing the black flag and red symbol. Was it caught in the fire?”

 

The fishman frowned, shaking his head, as if disappointed to admit the other ship had not sunk. Paul felt a huge weight lifted off his chest. At least his sacrifice hadn’t been for nothing. Paul fell back into the sand, laughing with delight. The handsome man scooted closer, confused to why he was laughing. Paul merely waved him off, looking up at the beautiful blue sky.

   

“So… What are you?” He glanced back over the man, running his eyes across the shining tail.

 

“I am merman.” He smiled, showing a row of sharp teeth. They were rather white. “My name is Patryck.”

 

Paul snorted and the merman gave him an ugly glare.

 

“Why do you laugh, human?” Paul only laughed harder, Patryck’s tail slapping the sand angrily. “What have I done to amuse you so?”

 

“I-I hahah-- just never thought… A mermans name would be PATRYCK! I-It’s so common!”

 

He supposed he deserved the tail slap to his face.

 

* * *

 

Patryck turned out to be wonderful company, bringing Paul amusement needed to keep boredom away. He had been stuck on the island for almost a week and no ships had passed by. Patryck kept him entertained while he waited and hoped the _Red Army_ would sail by, that they would see his fires and come rescue him.

The merman would sit at his side, listening to his tales and exploits under the courageous pirate king known as Red Leader. He would tell him about the towns they plundered, the near misses with the law, the treasures they stole, and about the nights they would just sit together and talk. Patryck was a wonderful listener, hanging on every word and always eager for more. Paul loved the look in his eyes when a tale would come to a terrifying moment-- desperate to know what happened next. He sometimes teased the merman, leaving the story on a cliffhanger to be finished the next day. Patryck would pout, tail failing back and forth, demanding for him to finish the story. Paul would pretend to think about it before demanding the merman go find him some fish to eat for breakfast- only then would he continue the story.

In turn the merman would tell him about his people, himself, and various other tidbits of information. Paul learned that Patryck was an only child, the only egg to survive to birth and that his parents had doted on him hand and fin because of this. Patryck told him tales of stealing rare shiny objects from the elders and blaming the other children-- or how he convinced everyone in his pod to trade him their pearls for his worthless stones. Paul learned Patryck had the gift of speech, able to spin a yarn so well that people couldn’t help but to believe him. He admired that about the merman. Patryck also admitted to being exiled from his home, though it took nights of pushing and prodding to get the merman to admit such.

It was here that Paul learned the merman was no saint. That he delighted in going to the surface, singing his lust filled songs to the sailors above. They would dive into the water, desperate to have him, only to be pulled down to the dark cold depths by the thing they craved most. Patryck had always found it amusing, he said, the way light flickered in their eyes before vanishing. It was beautiful too, the most beautiful thing in the world. Of course once the elder found out about his little games, he was instantly kick out of the ‘school’, deemed unsafe for the rest of them.

 

“Then why did you save me?”

 

It was a loaded question, one that caught the merman off guard. He stared at Paul for a long moment, considering his answer before speaking.

 

“I watched as the two ships met, as men fell into the water dying. I love to watch men kill one another, it is a fun sport to behold. But I saw you, telling your other humans to escape. I heard your pleas of concern, how you ignored your leaders will to get the wood rafts away. I saw it all and when the flames took hold, I saw you go flying into the water. I followed you down, eager to see what light your eyes shown as life drain out of them. But when I approached... I did not see that spark. There was no beautiful moment, no shining light dancing in your eyes. It felt empty. It felt… Wrong. Thus I took you into my arms, holding your close as I shared the air within me. I took you to land, hoping what little I could spare would be enough to preserve your life. For the longest time you just laid there and did not move. Then the water came out, your eyes opened and… It was beautiful.”

Patryck’s hand was on his cheek, turning Paul’s head to look him in the eye. Brown eyes stared into one another, the merman smiling at something only he could see.

 

“Your light… Is better alive, when it is dancing and strong, then deep beneath the cold touch of the sea.”

 

The kiss was sudden. Cold lips against warm ones. Webbed fingers running through Paul’s short scraggly brown hair. It was soft then it was passionate. Paul kissed back.

 

* * *

 

Paul stopped counting the days he was stuck on the island. Instead he enjoyed his time with Patryck, discussing past tales of glory and fun. The more the talk, the less and less he cared about being stuck. He was happy. Perhaps once they ran out of stories to tell he would think differently, or perhaps they would just make their own together.

Paul loved the little things about Patryck. His way with words, the way he would play with his scales when bored, or how passionate he would get about his nasty little stunts with the sailors. He often found himself trying to one up Patryck’s about drowning sailors with his own vicious tales, how he had held a wife hostage for ransom only to still kill her in the end. Patryck had found that one amusing. It fell short of how the merman had made an actual prince chase him halfway across the ocean into a hurricane, thus dooming all his men to a watery grave- but Paul was still giving the merman a run for his gills with his tales of cruelty.

 

Sometimes they spoke of soft things. Paul would tell him about how quiet his former town had been, that unlike the ship, he could have a moment to himself there. Patryck told him about the sunken vessel he would visit when feeling alone, unable to connect with the other merchildren. During these times, they would hold one another's hand and look up and the beautiful night sky. They would name the stars and whisper to one another under their bright glow.

 

Paul would whisper about taking Patryck with him. How the merman would be one of their crew, swimming alongside their ship and how Paul would go dive into the water to visit him. Patryck laughed at the idea, reminding the sailor that he could not swim. Paul said he would learn, only for him. He told the merman about visions of grandeur. How perfect it would be. Patryck luring idiots back to the Red Leader’s clutches, for Paul to kill, for him to watch, for them to enjoy the spoils together. Patryck found it romantic, preening with delight at the idea, because for once his little ‘games’ would not make him be seen as an outcast, but a helper. Someone who was needed-- wanted even-- for this talent.

Paul would hold him close, running his fingers through the silky brown locks and whisper about how perfect they would be. Them, together, under the rule of Red Leader. The seas would be theirs. No one would keep them apart. No one would judge them. They would be safe. Happy Together. Loved.

They would often fall asleep, dreaming of such promises.

 

* * *

 

Then one day, on the horizon, Patryck saw it. A ship with black flags and blood red symbol in the middle, the _Red Army_. Patryck had dove into the waters, scouting ahead to make sure that it was indeed the ship his lover had been so desperate for. From the waters he could see him, the man Paul always talked so highly about. Red Leader. There was no mistaking those scars. He swam back to the beach, signing with delight and rudely awakening his love with the most passionate kiss he could give. Paul had awoken dazed and confused, wondering what he had done to earn such sweet treatment. Then he too saw the ship. The boats coming towards them. He let out a whoop of delight, yanking Patryck back into the kiss.

 

“Go hide till I am on board, I will explain everything to him.”

 

Paul squeezed the mermans hand tight, giving him one last look filled with adoration before Patryck dove back into the cool blue waters. The last thing Paul wanted was the crew to freak out and attack his lover before he could explain things. That would be a poor welcome back. He would hate to kill his men for harming a single hair on Patryck’s head.

The boats breached the land, the crew of _Red Army_ shocked to see their quartermaster still alive-- healthy even. They had cheered, almost crushing him to death with their hugs. Paul laughed and took it in strife, suddenly overwhelmed with joy now that they were back together. They took him back to the ship, unaware that something in the water followed them. Paul knew. He would send the merman hidden smiles and in return Patryck would teasingly spray the pirates with water. They thought it was the rough waves. Paul laughed.

 

Taken to the captain's quarters, they left the two men alone. Captain and quartermaster stared at each other, the only sound of the men cheering outside and the waves against the ship. Tord put out the cigar he had been smoking and slowly approached Paul. There was a look of anger and something else in his eye. Paul knew what was coming. He took the beating and the cursings before, he could do it again. He had ignored an order that lead to his disappearance for… He didn’t even know how long.

Instead arms wrapped around him, hugging him tight. Paul stood still, shocked at this soft gesture from Red Leader. Never once had Tord hugged him, not in all their years together since becoming friends. Paul wasn’t sure what to do. Hesitantly he hugged back.

He apologized for disobeying order, for leaving his leader's side without permission, that he would never do it again, he swore to the stars and back that he would never again disobey Red Leader’s will.

 

Tord just nodded his head, holding his friend close. They stayed like that for awhile, till Tord ended the hug, almost shoving Paul away. He glared at his most trusty worth crewman, telling him that if he ever pulled a stunt like that death would be the least of his worries. Paul just smiled at nodded.

 

“By the way, sir. There is someone I want to introduce you to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again to my wonderful editor, who took the time of editing 'Ready For a Revolution', to help work on this.


End file.
